


One Night Stand (and a million nights saved)

by naegahosh



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Implied Sexual Content, It's not angst seungkwan is just a very dramatic dude, Light Angst, M/M, Nobody Dies, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 17:30:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7062646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naegahosh/pseuds/naegahosh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seungkwan tries to commit suicide. </p><p>Like all of his life plans, the idea comes to him as flawless until he’s past step one. Then he meets Hansol. </p><p>Hansol helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night Stand (and a million nights saved)

**Author's Note:**

> Before you read,
> 
> 1\. trigger warning - suicide attempt (no one dies)  
> 2\. as you can tell from the title, this story involves a one night stand and thus !implied sexual content!  
> 3\. ...it's really over-dramatic  
> 4\. immense thank you to LoveIsAMyth for beta-reading this and helping me through it!  
> 5\. hope you enjoy!

Okay, so Seungkwan’s been called dramatic a couple of times in his twenty-two years of life. But when you’ve walked into your apartment to find your boyfriend and your best friend fucking each other on your own bed, literally  _dying_  feels like the first and the most feasible alternative. Seungkwan looks into his bathroom mirror, rubbing at his eyes with his arms to clear his blurry view. It doesn’t help much, his upper eyelids puffy and swollen from so much crying that it covers half of his usually bright eyes. He can still vaguely make out a face; it’s red, covered in tears and snot, and blotchy from vigorously trying to wipe them off with his sleeves. Seungkwan hiccups, drool dripping down his chin as he puts up a pathetic effort to stifle his cries. 

His body involuntarily sways forward, exhausted from all the screaming and the sobbing, and Seungkwan is forced to take a better look at himself on the mirror. It’s like he’s squeezed every drop of water out of him; his eyes are gaunt, his lips are chapped dry, and his mouth tastes salty. Seungkwan’s gaze slowly moves to the sheath of curtain that he’s firmly hung over the shower curtain pole, his poor attempt of a noose just hanging there serenely as if to mock him.

The tip of his fingers touches the cup that’s placed over the sink and Seungkwan looks down to see his boyfriend’s blue toothbrush kissing the edge of his purple toothbrush. The image of two people he loved and trusted the most, entangled over the sheets they’d picked together, flits across his memory like the blinding flash of a camera. It took him a while to understand, what was actually happening when he stepped inside the room; Seungkwan had never had sex before.

Tears brimming in his eyes again, Seungkwan swiftly grabs the blue toothbrush and thrusts it violently against the ground. With a curt, blunt sound of impact, the head snaps off and rolls out of his sight. When he glances up again, his eyelashes are heavy with tear drops and his heart constricts in pain.

“I stopped loving you a long time ago, Seungkwan.” 

It was sharp and icy, something Seungkwan wasn’t used to hearing from his lover’s low baritone. His gaze was just as icy and final, before he grabbed the other male’s wrist and headed out the door without sparing a single glance back. As if this didn’t make Seungkwan the most pitiful person in the world, his so-called best friend had the nerve to turn around and mumble,

“Sorry.”

Seungkwan shuts his eyes. Their voices won't leave him alone. They bounce off his bathroom tiles and echo over and over again in his head. He violently twists the faucet, the water gushing out with an enormous roar and splashing over the edge. The words continue to resonate still, nullifying his efforts. Seungkwan drags his lower lip between his teeth in an attempt to shut himself up. It may just be the excessive crying, but his lungs hurt whenever he breathes in. His body aches, and his heart aches even more. He feels like he can’t  _live_ , and he doesn’t want to. Seungkwan would really rather die. He’d never been this sad before.

And so fucking  _angry_. He's  _livid_.

“Let’s see who’ll be  _really_  sorry when they know that I’ve died.”

Seungkwan seethes, stomping towards the noose he’s created and scrambling to right himself up on the side of the tub. It’s only when he sees his entire silhouette in the mirror that Seungkwan pauses. It seemed at the time, about twenty minutes ago, that killing himself sounded like the greatest revenge idea. He’d die a tragic death, having been betrayed by his lover and his best friend; everyone would mourn for him while the two of them suffered endlessly in guilt and shame. Seungkwan’s ghost would haunt them to their death. And the idea still strikes him as brilliant, it’s just that Seungkwan is audaciously vain and he doesn’t want to die looking like… this.

And all of a sudden, Seungkwan is struck with the thought that this is all very unjust. The cheating jerk was the only boyfriend he’d ever had in his life, and it’s just so fucking unfair. It boils his blood to know that his life would end having only loved this traitor of a scum, and Seungkwan hops off the edge. It’s not like he’s abandoned  _the greatest revenge idea ever_ , he’s just going to stride into a gay club –something he’d been too chicken to do all this time–, hook up with the hottest guy there, and come back home to give his shitty life a closure. Splashing a handful of water to clear his face, Seungkwan idly brushes his bangs into place and stomps out of the bathroom. Angrily throws on whatever’s remotely trashy that he owns in his closet. Seungkwan sits in front of the mirror to apply BB cream and maybe some eyeliner. He looks into his bedroom mirror, this time his eyes focused and piercing, jaws clenched, and mouth tasting rusty. Seungkwan wasn’t going to let that asshole be the last person he’d loved.

As Seungkwan’s door slams close, the noose swings slightly in place.

 

-

 

Like all of Seungkwan’s life plans, the idea comes to him as flawless until he’s past step one.

As prudish as it sounds, Seungkwan’s never stepped inside a gay club, let alone a regular club. So when he enters the place and there’s just so many  _men_ , grinding against each other, Seungkwan freezes with round eyes and finds himself shuffling into the corner of the club. Every time a different pair of large hands gropes his ass, Seungkwan sort of regrets wearing the tee that he’d only bought on a dare, a black see-through net that reveals most of his bare back down to the lining of his jeans. But then the eerie green light turns yellow and Seungkwan’s able to make out the guy’s face and his pink lips that say,

“You’re really cute.”

Seungkwan blushes. He’s very much cute himself, and the guy cuffs his fingers in Seungkwan’s front pockets and pulls him closer. It’s nice, and longed for, especially when he’s been dumped and abandoned in the worst way possible, feeling like the most alone person in the world. So Seungkwan figures regrets are only for the living. It wasn’t going to matter anyways, especially if he was going to be dead by tomorrow. As soon as the thought occurs to him, Seungkwan immediately orders and downs a shot. Then another. And another.

Seungkwan loses track of the cute guy, Jeonghan, in the middle of the dance floor but he’s so utterly drunk, too much to even try looking for him. It doesn’t even feel like he’s dancing anymore, but like his entire body is high on ride as his limbs just automatically sway to the bass of the music pounding into his ears. He smiles coyly at every pair of eyes that meets his, and it feels wonderful to have their gaze linger, like it snaps something within him that’s been impossible to break free of. Like at this point Seungkwan doesn’t care if he’s attracting people’s attention because he looks good or incredibly stupid doing whatever he’s doing, because he’s never done something like before and it’s  _so_  fucking refreshing. It must be working though, because Seungkwan wants to laugh when someone else approaches him from behind no less than five minutes that Jeonghan’s been gone.

“Hi,”

Seungkwan feels the stranger’s breath on his neck, completely negligent of personal space. Seungkwan wonders if it’s intentional or unintentional because really, the center stage is packed and Seungkwan can barely move two steps himself. Not that he minds.

“Hey,” Seungkwan responds over his shoulder, discarding the unnecessary thought away and rolling his hips against the guy’s front. Intentionally, on his part. He hears the stranger laugh; it’s light and airy, all the while carrying a glint of mischief.

“Either you’re really determined to get laid or you have no idea what you’re doing.”

Seungkwan would be offended by the comment if he wasn’t ready to leave tonight. Plus, it’s very true either way. Seungkwan reels around, and either the alcohol’s really kicked a mile into him or this stranger is stunningly gorgeous. If he knew that everyone hitting on him was going to be this hot, Seungkwan would’ve scored a perfect attendance at this club since the day he turned legal. He inwardly curses his jackass of an ex-boyfriend for hindering him so. Seungkwan smiles again, scrunching up his nose in a way he  _knows_  is cute, and links his arms around the boy’s sweaty neck. The stranger’s brows meet the fringe of his bangs, but the expression is shortly replaced with a laidback smirk. He leans in closer, as if there’s any space to fill, his fingers crawling up the sides of Seungkwan’s thighs and settling pleasantly on his waist. It’s hot, they’re both hot, and he feels the guy’s neck pulsating under his skin.

“The former, pretty boy.”

Seungkwan brushes his tongue over his lips, enjoying every bit of moment that the stranger’s gaze latches onto his tongue.

“I  _so_  want to get laid.”

The guy slips out another incredulous laugh, and Seungkwan blames the tipsiness for gliding forwards and closing their gap entirely. The guy’s lips taste a tad acidic, as if they’re stained with alcohol, and Seungkwan inhales a bit too quickly when he feels the firm grip on his waist that presses their pelvises together.

Once he lets himself go, Seungkwan can’t stop; his own tongue feels numb as he kisses for more, more of what, he doesn’t know, but for something that could possibly fill an empty void he has in his guts. Seungkwan almost falls forwards and smacks his face on the stranger’s chest when the guy breaks away, a string of saliva proving the proximity between them. His breaths are a bit shortened, his light brown eyes looking even more curious before the kiss, but Seungkwan’s too busy drawling out a whine to notice.

“Slow down,” He chuckles when Seungkwan’s head falls to suck timidly above his collarbone, “we have all night.”

“I don’t want to slow down,” Seungkwan pouts, his murmur muffled against the stranger’s shoulders. “I want to keep kissing you,” He lunges forward, trying to press their mouths together to retrieve the pleasant warmth again, but apparently he’s way too drunk to aim properly. That, or the guy’s just dodged him. “You taste pretty- uh, what’s your name again?”

“It’s Hansol.” He laughs, and Seungkwan thinks it’s cute how the edge of his eyes crinkle to form a genial smile. He also thinks it’s cute how Hansol’s trying really hard to keep Seungkwan on his feet, his hands discreetly swatting away random elbows that occasionally come dangerously close to thwacking Seungkwan in the face. So Seungkwan doesn’t hesitate to voice this aloud, giggling when Hansol knits his brows together, the intoxicated slurring impossible to make out even to his own ears. Seungkwan tries again, and Hansol’s gaze lowers in concentration, revealing a set of long, flattering eyelashes. Maybe it’s all the flashing neon lights or the hazy state of his brain, but Hansol is really pretty in this captivating, spellbinding way. It's why he can’t help but trace the lining of Hansol’s jaws when the guy leans in to hear him properly, his ears barely touching Seungkwan’s spit-slick lips.

“You’re cute, Hansol.” Seungkwan whispers into his ears, stifling a laugh at how the guy flinches from his warm breath ghosting over his skin. “Are you this cute in bed too?”

Hansol looks slightly offended for a brief second. But then he laughs and shoots him a look that looks like a mixture of amusement and disbelief, or to be more exact, a look that screams,  _should I fuck him or is it too late to bail?_  Seungkwan’s still smiling, just finding out himself that he’s a giddy drunk who just wants to hold, touch, and kiss whoever’s in reach. He stumbles forward, barely able to hold himself up without any physical support, and wraps his arms around Hansol’s neck again. Seungkwan grins widely, noting how stupid he looks in the reflection of Hansol’s light eyes, and presses his mouth hard against Hansol’s pursed lips. It’s an innocent kiss, almost a joke that ends with a loud and gross smooch, but Seungkwan’s hands make up for it by skating down to the buckle of Hansol’s belt, tugging it so that his crotch rubs against Seungkwan’s thighs. Hansol exhales in frustration. He grabs Seungkwan’s wrist, dragging him off the stage until the loopy boy almost trips over his own legs.

“I’m speeding things up.” Hansol answers when Seungkwan looks up at him in confusion. “Just the way you wanted it.”

It’s so fucking easy that Seungkwan beams. Getting laid turned out to be so easy, like why did anyone complain of being sexually deprived? And while following Hansol out the club’s back exit and down the darkly lit street, he silently thanks god because –shit, Seungkwan gasps as Hansol turns around and crashes their mouths together, sucking on his lower lip as they wait for the lights to turn green and  _my god_  it feels so  _good_ – the last person he’s making love to is actually pretty damn hot.

 

-

 

When Seungkwan sobers up though, he actually feels sort of bad. Not for himself, no.  _He_ feels fine, moderately lax after coming down from the high, with the scruffy blanket wrapped around his naked body. He tears his eyes away from the large brown stain that’s on the flower-printed wallpaper of the cheap motel room they’re currently occupying. It’s probably coffee. He wants to ask Hansol if he thinks so too, but the guy looks way too panic-stricken, if not guilty, sitting at a distance away from Seungkwan and rubbing at his temples.

The air’s tense and orange, coloured by the rusty nightstand that’s the only source of light in the dark. Seungkwan squirms under the eerily-illuminated sheets and hugs his knees closer to his chest. It’s a bad idea, because it immediately sparks a sharp pain below his torso and Seungkwan croaks out a muted groan that’s just loud enough to grab Hansol’s attention. He stalls, a little sorry that Hansol looks so rattled with his large doe eyes staring back at him, but Seungkwan muses he’d have the same sort of reaction if someone he picked up for a one night fuck just confessed that  _that_  was his first time. Frankly, Seungkwan doesn’t see what the problem is. Rather, the real problem at hand is the fact that it’s so fucking damn awkward when they’d just had sex, and Seungkwan barely resists the urge to grab the pillow under his ass and thrust it at the boy who takes one look at Seungkwan, sighs, and fucking  _facepalms_  melodramatically.

“Can you stop being so dramatic?” Seungkwan snaps, half from the pain that’s still travelling up his nerves, and half from the mortification that Hansol’s establishing and starting to stain his indifference. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It  _is_  a big deal,” Hansol almost yells, this time actually looking offended as he faces Seungkwan. His handsome eyebrows crease into a perpetual frown, his mouth hanging open as if  _he’s_  the one that’s just given away his virginity to a meaningless, drunk one night stand. Seungkwan simply watches as Hansol dishevels his already mussed up hair, mindlessly counting the deep red marks he’s made all over and across Hansol’s pale chest.

“I feel like I just took advantage of a completely wasted and vulnerable-” He pauses, sighing again as his gaze fills with resentment. “Wait, fuck, that’s exactly what happened. My god, you did  _not_  sound like a fucking virgin when you said you  _so wanted to get laid._ ”

Seungkwan shrugs, his eyes still hovering over the other male’s body without a focus. Hansol glares at him.

“Dude, aren’t first times supposed to be important?”

That succeeds in locking their gazes together. And Seungkwan’s finally able to take everything in; their clothes scattered carelessly on the floor, the unfamiliar sheets under his bare ass, and this guy named Hansol whom Seungkwan’s just met for the first time. Seungkwan tries to push down the lump that forms somewhere deep inside of him. It’s so fucking stupid. He wants to blame Hansol for not being a dick. He’s supposed to be immune to feelings right now, but this idiot is making things so much more difficult than it should be. Out of everyone that he could’ve slept with in the club, Hansol just had to turn out to be a decent guy, and now it's Seungkwan who wants to bury his face into his hands. His lips feel dry when he tries to crack them open, his voice coming out hoarse when he manages to reply,

“…I guess so.”

“So, then, why…this?”

Hansol sounds perplexed,  _looks_  perplexed, and his tone eventually elevates to one of a question. Seungkwan laughs. It’s actually entertaining to see that Hansol’s invested, that he genuinely wants to know what is exactly wrong with the wildly messed up dude that he just slept with.

“Look, I’m not going to ask you to take responsibility for this if that’s what you’re worried about.” Seungkwan rolls his eyes, feeling a bit cold and snuggling further into the sheets that have long lost the warm temperature of their bodies.

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

Hansol unconsciously shifts in his spot, the indignant puff of his breath driving him forward. There’s something distinguishable in Hansol’s voice that stupidly resembles concern. It makes the lump inside of him prick again, allowing it to surface an inch above his stomach. Seungkwan pauses and stares at Hansol for a good minute, before he rests his chin on his knees.

“You’re cute, Hansol.” Seungkwan smiles. “Can’t quite say the same for your monster ding-dong that almost ripped my ass open, but yeah, you’re cute.”

Hansol’s expression twists into a comical gape and Seungkwan bursts out laughing, almost falling over to his sides.

“You’re fucking unbelievable.” Hansol mutters under his breath, a blush of red flitting across his cheeks and spreading to his ears. Seungkwan half expects Hansol to throw on his clothes and leave, completely done with him. But Hansol doesn’t, and does the unexpected. Well he doesn’t quite  _do_  anything, but continues to sit on the edge of the bed and  _waits_. Waits for Seungkwan to speak. Seungkwan refuses to give in, pursing his lips into a thin line and staring back at Hansol as if to engage in a staring competition.

Hansol shuffles to find a more comfortable position, entirely facing Seungkwan now and resting his elbows on his thighs. He hunches forth slightly, his creamy skin entering the orange zone of the murky nightstand lights.

“What’s up,”

He asks monotonously, and suddenly Seungkwan’s facial muscles feel so unnaturally stiff. It only takes a second for the tension to break, his stone-hard front crumbling down, his lips no longer pressed tightly together. Before he can stop himself, Seungkwan realizes that he’s sobbing, unable to swallow down the lump that’s somehow managed to crawl up to his throat. Hansol doesn’t stir, just sat there as Seungkwan’s shoulders start to tremble and the boy starts gushing everything out. Everything from how the jerk had reassured him that it would be okay to tell his parents that they were in a relationship and it  _wasn’t_  okay, how he had promised Seungkwan that he’d always stay with him and he  _didn’t_  stay, to how Seungkwan thought his love was everlasting when  _his boyfriend’s_  had stopped to start over with his best friend.

Hansol merely listens through the whole thing, not even interrupting when Seungkwan tells him that he’s planning to die, and that he’d come to the club because he felt so sorry for himself. That he’d tried to delude himself into loving someone else before ending his life. Seungkwan doesn’t know why he’s telling Hansol all of this, but he figures it’s due to the fact that they’re nothing to each other. Their meeting was literally based on nothing but alcohol, spontaneity, and sexual drive; utterly light and meaningless. So Seungkwan pours out his pathetic story, knowing that the moment will only be fleeting and transient, just like the two of them.

“How are you planning to die?”

It’s the first thing that comes out of Hansol’s mouth when he’s finished. Seungkwan tries to wipe his wet face with his blanket, 

“Hang myself on the shower curtain pole.”

Hansol shakes his head.

“You live alone, how do you expect anyone to find you?”

Seungkwan blinks, his lashes wet and feeling sticky and unnecessary over his swollen eyes. He doesn’t mean to but he chortles an empty laugh, because Hansol’s reaction isn’t anything like he’d predicted. And plus, he’s absolutely right.

“Shit, you’re right,” Seungkwan grimaces. “Any ideas?”

He watches as Hansol falls in thought, picking at his lips habitually –something he’d been doing consistently as he listened.

“Jump off the Mapo Bridge?” He suggests, “You’ll faint during the fall, it won’t hurt, and give it a couple of hours and your body’s bound to resurface above Han River.”

He sounds serious.

“I can walk you there at sunrise if you want.”

This time, Seungkwan actually bursts out laughing. He falls over to roll on his sides, his form conveniently curled up into a ball. He finds everything about this hilarious and absurd, but at the same time he feels like he hasn’t been at ease this much in a while.

Tilting his head, Hansol finds the perfect angle to rightfully meet Seungkwan’s face that’s smushed against the mattress. He chuckles.

“Hey, you’re determined and I’m in no place to judge.”

Seungkwan’s still wheezing.

“Better than having someone you just met freak the fuck out and hook you up with the suicide hotline, huh.”

“You have no idea.”

Seungkwan sighs, the laughter still rolling off his lips. He rubs his hands up and down his arms, the night chill settling into the room that has a fake, almost believable vent. Hansol grins, promptly getting up from where he’s sitting to slide under the blanket.

“C’mere,” He scoops Seungkwan back up with one arm, pulling him close to his side. Hansol’s warm hand caresses over the goosebumps on Seungkwan’s cool skin, and the smaller boy cuddles into his embrace. Feeling the graze of his lips above his eyebrow, Seungkwan digs deeper because Hansol is so  _warm_. Hansol lets him, and Seungkwan stifles back a laugh –or a cry, he can’t tell– when Hansol whispers,

“Let’s make your last hours totally worth it.”

 

-

 

It gets even better because as it turns out, Hansol had meant every word.

“Well, here we are.”

He says as soon as they reach the mouth of the Mapo Bridge. The sky is still a translucent blue, layers of thick morning fog preventing anyone from driving and leaving the road deserted. Seungkwan nods and untangles their interlocked fingers.

“Last night was probably the most memorable night of my life.” He grins, meaning every single word. “Thanks.”

Hansol doesn’t say anything, but gently pulls at the hem of Seungkwan’s collars to plant a short baby kiss on his lips. There’s a rush of heat to every inch that their skin brushes and overlaps, making the sensation burn against the crisp morning air. They part, and Hansol stuffs his now empty hands in the pockets of his jacket. He nudges his chin a bit, as if to say goodbye.

“Good luck.”

Seungkwan smiles and gives him a light wave. He turns around, stepping into the bridge and pushing himself forward. It’s actually surprising; all of his regrets and lingering attachment to life seems to have dissolved overnight. Seungkwan no longer loves the guy that broke his heart and pushed him to his endless bottom, nor is he the last and the only guy that Seungkwan’s ever loved. No matter how meaningless and transient, Hansol had been his entire world and universe during that moment… a warm body, a pair of ears, and a salvation he probably needed.

As he continues to make his way across, Seungkwan traces his finger against the icy railing of the bridge. Shuddering at the sharp breeze that cuts through the net of his sweater, Seungkwan thinks that perhaps last night was solely an excuse that he’d desperately fabricated to live. To justify the sense of denial that had always been there as his aloofness, and to justify the overwhelming fear as anger; he didn’t want to admit how scared he’d been standing on the edge of his tub. Seungkwan stops at the middle mark, turning to face the gust of wind that blows into him from the other side. The water’s black and opaque underneath him, the surface glistening serenely from the slow, beautiful sunrise.

It’s then when a shaky, hitching breath escapes him at that moment, and Seungkwan doesn’t expect the sudden surge of emotions that makes him plant his feet firm onto the ground. And before he can come to any sort of conclusion, Seungkwan starts at the mechanical melody that shatters his surroundings. It’s a phone ringing –not his, because he doesn’t recall the ringtone– and Seungkwan reaches inside his pocket to pull out a mobile that’s flashing his very own number on the screen.

“Hello?”

Seungkwan answers it semi-automatically, and the phone’s owner on the other line sounds way too calm. Rude.

“Still alive?”

“You know,” Seungkwan clasps his free hand onto his forehead, a faint trace of a smile curving his lips. “Had I jumped, they would’ve found your phone with me and arrested you for premeditated murder.”  

“Yeah. Probably.”

Hansol laughs, the raspy chuckle that’s so effortlessly easy to remember reaching Seungkwan’s ears as if they’re actually standing there together.

“Still set on dying?”

“I-” Seungkwan pauses, trying to hold back the hitching breaths and whatever’s welling up in his chest. He attempts to sound nonchalant, trying to keep up with Hansol’s indifference. “…Well I can’t anymore, can I. I have your phone.”

“Good, because I have a better idea.” Hansol’s voice is unmistakably clear this time, overriding the one that flows out of the phone. Seungkwan whirls around, wide-eyed when he sees Hansol standing a few feet behind him with the phone still to his ears. “How about you and I date, and live happily ever after to serve that jackass right?”

He ends the call when Seungkwan doesn’t respond, shoving the phone in his jeans and approaching him closer. Seungkwan blinks, not quite sure if he’s imagining things, but Hansol looks absolutely real, his face emerging clearly from the fog with every step.

“You didn’t really think I was going to let you go, did you?”

Hansol cocks his brows, and Seungkwan finally exhales the puff of air he’s been holding.

“You were behind me all this time?”

It’s more of a statement that comes out as a question, but Seungkwan doesn’t really need to hear Hansol’s answer as he reaches for the other boy and wraps his arms around him tightly. They stand like that for a while, indulging in each other’s warm presence until the silence is shattered again, by Seungkwan’s familiar alarm that blares loudly from the pocket of Hansol’s jeans.

“It’s my alarm,” Seungkwan laughs, sniffling when Hansol hands the phone back to him. The fog’s almost cleared up. More cars start passing them by, no doubt heading for work and ready to start a new day.

“Good morning, then.”

Hansol grins. He extends a hand, and Seungkwan eagerly intertwines their fingers. He clutches on tight, to the touch he’d missed the moment he let go. They continue down the other half of the bridge, hand in hand and shoulder to shoulder when Seungkwan hums cheerily,

“Breakfast?”

Hansol hums right back, giving their hands a squeeze.

“Definitely McDonalds.”

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written a seungsol/verkwan (or anything for that matter in a while) since Found In Translation, and I know this story has a completely different vibe, but I hope it didn't throw anyone off and I hope you don't regret reading it. 
> 
> I appreciate all kudos, comments or any kind of feedback if you have any!


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